Bad
by AxelCat
Summary: What just happened after Blaine got slushied in Michael? It couldn't have just been roses in the park... Trigger warning: Homophobic language, self-harm, hospitalization, panic attacks. DISCONTINUED


Blaine was screaming.

Blaine, the wonder-boy, who never shed a tear. He was screaming.

Kurt was crying.

Kurt, who always cried those crystal tears in silence. He was crying, sobbing, cradling Blaine in his arms like a China doll, because he knew that Blaine had stepped in front of _him_.

The Warblers were walking away.

The Warblers, who claimed that once a person was a Warbler, they were always a Warbler. They were walking away.

New Directions was panicking.

New Directions, who through everything, stuck together and stayed strong. They were panicking.

Only three people were calm.

Artie remained silent as he thought, his hands gripped tightly by Tina and Quinn.

Santana, too, was silent. Her eyes were on fire, and she paced for two whole minutes, picking up pieces of _rock_ from the the surrounding slushy as the rest of the New Directions stood and stared.

Mike was whispering into Artie's ear, his wide eyes displaying the library of his mind being searched.

That was when the silence and the noise_ broke._ "QUIET!" That was Artie's voice. Cool and commanding, he didn't think twice. "Santana, call an ambulance. Tell them that a gang was looking for trouble and threw a rock-laced slushie in Blaine's eye, and that the only medical student thinks he's cut his cornea. The address is fifty-one South Baker Street, Lima. Next to the cinema," he ordered. The girl didn't hesitate in whipping her phone out and running outside, where at least there she might be able to get a signal. "Kurt, I need you to let Mike look at Blaine he'll be able to tell the vague outline of what's wrong."

Very, very hesitantly, with shuddering breaths and tights clutches on Blaine's hand, Kurt let him move the tiniest bit away. Pure tears ran from Blaine's left eye. His right? They were mixed with blood. Mike stepped up next to them and kneeled at Blaine's side. His voice, too, remained soft and calm. "Blaine, buddy, I know how much you're hurting, but you need to open your eye for me. Just two seconds, that's all I need."

Kurt was shaking his head, "N-no, he doesn't But Blaine had already slid his naturally _hazel_ eye open for Mike, to reveal his blood-red iris.

"Okay, buddy. Try to keep your eye closed now, but I've got to wipe off the rest of the slushie off of your eyelid and around your eye. Squeeze Kurt's hand if that's okay."

There was a pause. "It's okay," Kurt whispered. "H-here..." He offered a dark piece of fabric to Mike, who took it with a small smile. It was Kurt's favourite McQueen silk scarf. It was soft as could be it wouldn't hurt so much.

"Blaine, I'm going to count down to three, then I'm going to QUICKLY wipe the blood off of your eyelid and under your eye. Squeeze Kurt's hand again if that's okay."

Kurt nodded his head to Mike, who began the count-down. "Three... two... one." Blaine let out a sharp cry as the scarf _brushed_ his eyelid. "Okay! Okay, it's done, Blaine! No-one's going to touch you again until you get to the hospital unless you really need them to," Mike whispered to him. "Kurt, bud, how can we get him to feel safe?"

The boy just shook his head, "I don't know! I don't know...!" he sobbed out. Blaine squeezed his hand, and with all the strength he could muster, figured out where his boyfriend was and pushed himself back into his arms.

"All the rest of you, clear off! Either Puck or Finn, stay behind, I need you to carry Blaine! Girls, explain to Brittany, don't worry about him, he'll be okay. Rachel, call Burt and tell him what happened. Contact Blaine's parents if you're willing, or get Burt to," was Artie's list of orders. With a few moments of hesitance, the main percentage of the New Direction's were walking away. The girls all cried, and the boys looked ready to _kill._ "Finn, you'll carry Blaine?"

"Yea"

"Quiet!" Kurt snapped. "Blaine's trying to talk!"

"I can walk," was Blaine's harsh whisper. "Kurt, Mike, j-just..." His voice was shaky with his sobs. "H-help me stand, th-then Kurt, keep your arm around me so I-I don't walk into anything."

"You sure, Blainers?" Artie asked with a small smile. He didn't know Blaine insanely well, but he was so _intensely proud_ of the boy for remaining calm.

"Y-yes. If... Kurt, you push me up b-by my hips, and Mike, take my forearms in monkey grip and tug m-me up while Kurt pushes, i-it shouldn't hurt me. Artie, if you c-could call my b-big brother..?"

"I'll call him, baby," Kurt murmured against his ear. "But only once you're patched up, okay?" He'd gotten his tears under control and carefully, he slid his hands to Blaine's hips. "Mike, can you take his arms?"

"Sure." Mike stepped forwards and crouched down, "Blaine, don't try to open your eyes, okay? It'll just make it hurt more." He stood back up, but with Blaine's forearms in his grip. "On the count of three. You count for us, Blaine."

Blaine took in a shuddering breath and clasped his own hands around Mike's forearms monkey grip. "One... two... three." With Kurt pushing him gently but with force, and Mike holding him steady and pulling him up, he came up onto his feet without a hitch.

"The ambulance is coming, they'll be two minutes max'," Santana called to them. She caught onto the situation quickly and jogged up to the back of Artie's wheelchair. "We'll follow behind you guys," she told the other three.

Almost exactly a minute later, the ambulance came blearing down the street. Blaine flinched back into Kurt's warmth, his protective arms. "Blaine, honey, we have to get your eye looked at," Kurt whispered into his ear.

"I'm scared, Kurt. W-what if th-they say it can't be fixed, wh-what if I-?"

"You stop right there, Blaine Anderson. You need to stay strong and positive about your eye, okay? My dad once had a cut so deep in his cornea he had to get surgery. He was fine after a few months, okay, baby? Promise me to believe it's going to get better." Kurt rubbed small circles into his hands and smiled against the back of his head.

"I promise," he whispered back.

"AMBULANCE! OVER HERE!" Santana yelled. She was standing on Artie's lap, waving her arms around in the air. Within moments the ambulance was parked, with two doctors jumping out to Blaine and Kurt's side.

"Who was it that got hurt?" one woman asked.

"M-me," Blaine said quietly. He had Kurt's scarf wrapped around his head over his eyes.

"Okay, honey. We'll get all your details later, but first of all, we need to know what happened."

"A group of... rebels, I guess, were harassing me and my friends, a-and their leader tossed a slushie at me, b-but it had... rocks in it. Gr-gravel or something," he said. He sounded _ashamed._ Of all the things he could be feeling, he was ashamed.

Mike stepped up to the woman, "I checked. It was either gravel or rock salt. I had a look at his eye and cleaned it, and from what experience I've had, it's a scratched cornea."

"What did it feel like, honey?" the nurse asked Blaine.

The boy took in a deep breath, and Kurt's hands slipped into his own. "L-like my eye was getting torn open. It was burning and stinging and freezing a-and it hurt so bad." His control was breaking he was tearing up again.

"Okay. Are any of you his family?" she inquired.

"I am," Kurt said. "I'm his lover, and I'm an adult. I can take that role, right?"

"Of course. Okay. Kids, you'll need to either follow to the hospital or go home, because we can only take one person in the ambulance. You She nodded to Mike. "Very good observational skills, and thank you for cleaning it off."

The other doctor stepped forwards with a smile to Kurt, "Honey, I'm going to take you and your partner into the ambulance. Do you want me or him to help you up the step?"

"K-Kurt can help me," Blaine informed him. Kurt smiled weakly and stepped up to his side. He took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly before leading him up to the ambulance.

"There are two steps coming up, Blaine. The first one is about five inches off of the ground, and the second one is a little bit smaller. Is that okay, or do you need me to lift you up?"

"I can do that. Just st-step up at the same time as me?"

Kurt did as asked, and helped Blaine up onto the first step. "Now the second one is only about the height of your foot. Just lift your foot a little bit and you'll feel it." Blaine's legs quivered as his foot searched for the top step, but as soon as he felt solid ground underneath him, he smiled. "You're doing so well, Blaine. I'm going to sit you down on the bed now."

With a few murmured words the two seated themselves on the bed. "D'you wanna lie down, baby?" Blaine shook his head in silence and rested his head on Kurt's shoulder.

"'M really tired. B-but it still hurts so bad..."

"I know, Blaine... it's okay. You don't have to talk if you don't want, I'll take care of everything," Kurt murmured into his hair before pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

"My hero," the boy joked with a small smile. Kurt just smiled and rested his head against Blaine's.

"You're both settled down? Wonderful. Jim, we're heading off!" the male nurse called. "Okay boys, I'm going to first of all, get you to sit a bit apart so we can look at the injured eye. You, who are not injured, you'll have to give us your details. First off though, what are your first names?"

"I'm Blaine."

"And I'm Kurt."

The couple moved together to disentangle their bodies. The female doctor went to Blaine side with a small smile, "Hi, Blaine. My name's Rebecca, and I'm a bit of an expert on eye injuries. I'm gonna have to take that blind-fold off of you though, okay?"

"Okay," Blaine agreed with a shy smile. He found Kurt's hand with his own on the bed and squeezed the tips of his fingers. Kurt immediately squeezed back.

"So, let's start with Blaine. We'll need his full name, phone number, address, parent's number if he's underage. That okay?"

"Sure," Kurt agreed, "Blaine Tobias Anderson. Born, August the twenty-ninth, 1993. He lives at 27 Archer Street, Lima. He lives with his parents, Miriam and Thomas. Their phone number is..." Kurt was stumped, then. He slipped one hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone, flipping through his contacts until he found it. He recited it to the doctor with a small smile.

"And you?"

"Kurt Ethan Hummel. Born on the twenty-seventh of May, 1993. I live at 415 Whitman Avenue, Lima. I live with my parents, but I'm an adult. My phone number is four-one-nine. Five-five-five. Six-one-seven-two."

"And your relation to Mr Anderson?"

"Long term romantic partner. We recently talked about getting married, but that hasn't been... _officialized._" Blaine squeezed his hand as Rebecca cleaned his face, very, very thoroughly.

"Okay then. We'll have to call his parents, of course, but we'll have to list you as his fiance to actually get you into the room with him, if that's alright with the two of you."

"S-sure," Blaine replied with a shy smile. Kurt echoed him.

"Awesome. We won't tell the parents," the male doctor teased with a wink.

"That's very nice of you," Kurt retorted. "Miss, can I do anything to help?" he asked Rebecca.

"Just keep holding his hand, Kurt. That's all you can do at the moment. Anyway, do you want a diagnoses?"

"Yes, please," the two boys said in unison.

"There is a deep scratch in the cornea of your right eye. We'll be able to get it patched up tonight, but to make sure it's back to one hundred percent, we'll have to book you in for a very minor surgery."

"S-surgery?" Blaine whispered. He was scared. That much was so, so obvious.

"It'll be okay, baby," Kurt told him immediately.

"Kurt's right. It's very minor we'll put you to sleep, and put a little bit of artificial cornea inside your real one. It won't take two hours, and if it works out alright, you'll just need to wear glasses for reading for a few months." Kurt and Blaine didn't miss the _'if...'_ and it terrified them. "Right now? We're gonna give you a super-cool eye-patch, themed off of the Pirates of the Caribean, and disinfect everything so it doesn't get any worse, and we're also going to get this She held up a plastic bag that contained the slushie.-Looked at, because a slushie _can not_ cut the cornea like that. And I also know that you two know something about the person who did this, and you aren't telling me. And I really need you to."

Kurt looked to Blaine with gentle eyes and gentler touches that said absolutely everything, _'Blaine, honey, this is illegal. We need to tell them, no matter how much they mean to you.'_

"He went to my old school, but we'd never spoken," Blaine whispered. "I don't know his name." Kurt's grip on his hand tightened, just for a second, and his face tensed, but then he relaxed again. He massaged small circles into the side of Blaine's neck, slowly leading the boy's head down onto his shoulder.

"What school, honey?"

"Dalton Academy, Westerville," Kurt replied. He was stroking down Blaine's hair, holding his hand and just _trying_ to help him through the pain.

Rebecca scrawled down the name on a pad of paper and nodded, "Thank you. Blaine, will your parents mind us giving you some medication? We'll of course be putting an I.V. drip on at the hospital, but golly." She smiled at the boy who was just trying to hold back his sobs and tears. "You're doing so, so well," she murmured. "I've seen more minor injuries than this sending men older and stronger to their knees, but you're holding together, and you're being so fantastic."

Blaine's lower lip quivered and his eyelids filled with tears. His resolve crumpled at that one compliment, at those gentle and motherly words. "Shh, shh, baby, it's okay..." Kurt whispered onto the top of his head.

"Blaine, I'm gonna stop talking, okay? I don't want to upset you anymore." The teenage boy nodded into Kurt's damp neck. "Kurt, would you know his medical history?"

"Yes, I can. What do you need to know?"

"Everything that might be relevant."

"He's severely allergic to bee stings, hornet stings and wasp stings. He reacts badly to ibuprofen, in the sense it makes his temperature sky-rocket. He's gluten intolerant and lactose intolerant, but generally has both anyway. He has a history of therapy with various psychologists, psychiatrists and therapists, some of which he was sent to by the schools he has previously attended. His parents have been accused by his current therapist of severe negligence. Not of... not giving him food, or ignoring him when he was hurt, simply ignoring the fact that he's human, that he has feelings. He was beat up very severely two and a half years ago, along with his date by a group of homophobes. Some words trigger... panic attacks in him. He just freezes up, doesn't move or make a sound, just cries in silence until someone shakes him out of it. I think... I think that's it." Kurt stroked his hands through Blaine's hair and cradled him to his chest.

"That's plenty, thank you, honeys. Okay then, we're almost there. Blaine, do you feel like you can swallow a tablet at the moment?" the woman asked quietly, and he nodded. The second doctor passed her a pill and a small plastic cup of water, and she smiled to him and nodded. "Part your lips for me?" Blaine parted his lips obediently, and she popped the pill into his mouth, before pressing the cup to his lips. "Fantastic. Would you lie down for us so we can wheel you out, honey? I wouldn't ask, but it's better to do so."

Blaine nodded with a quivering, "Okay," and Kurt helped him lay down against the pillows.

"I think I'm going to have to leave you for a tiny bit, baby," he said quietly. "But you'll be okay. You're doing so, so well. You know that, right? I'm so proud of you, so proud to be with you, and to be yours, and you're going to be okay," he announced through his tears. "You're gonna be just fine."

Blaine just nodded again and curled up on himself. He yawned quietly, and Rebecca smiled. "He's so small. The drugs must have already kicked in," she explained to Kurt. "Here we are! Let's go then!"

The patient tried to sit up, to tell them that he was still awake, but he couldn't. He just lay there, in a tiny circle, sobbing silently, and wondering when people got so _bad._


End file.
